All I Ask of You
by Whyte-Fyre-Flayme
Summary: Christine's precious Angel of Music couldn't make my voice fine!  an aspiring chorus girl comes to the Opera Populaire and challenges Erik in more way than one. Better than it sounds, I think! ErikOC, AWL movie with a hint of Leroux,
1. Chapter One : l'fantôme

**hello phans! This is a Phanfic i've been working on-and-off for a while! I hope you enjoy it! I don't own anything except the character of Anais! R&R if you will! **

**- Cyan**

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**Summary: "Erik is in persuit of his Christine, until an old friend of hers reappears into her life, challenging him in more ways than he would have guessed. And when the Vicomte arrives, how willing will he be to let Christine go?" An insertation of a new character and me portraying Christine for what I think she really is.**

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All I Ask of You

Chapter One – _L'fantôme _

The Opera Populaire was in uproar – the Leading Lady _La Carlotta_ was quickly leaving. Erik surveyed the scene with a satisfied look on his face: he despised La Carlotta.

Below, the two new managers were in a panic. "Signora Carlotta…she will be coming back, won't she?" Gilles Andre asked the maestro.

He gave a defeated shrug and turned back to his orchestra.

"A full house, Andre! We'll have to refund a Full House!" Richard Firmin gasped.

"Christine Daae could sing it, monsieur!" announced Madame Giry, the stern-faced ballet mistress.

Erik smiled: his Christine was ready, and the new managers had no idea of the beauty that would soon grace their ears. Erik stayed to listen to his Christine sing and after hearing the manager's praises, began his way back across the catwalk.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle!" the voice of Firmin reached his ears. Afraid the managers were mistreating his Christine, he hurried back to his place on the catwalk. They weren't; instead, they were now inquiring after the identity of an unknown girl. She looked about his Christine's age – perhaps a month or so younger.

"My name is Anais de Chagny. I've come to audition for a place in the chorus. The Manager, monsieur Lefevre told me I should come today." She explained, handing him an envelope.

"De Chagny? As in the _Vicomte de Chagny_?" Andre asked excitedly.

Anais nodded, "The _Vicomte _is my brother, monsieur." She replied.

Firmin and Andre glanced at each other; a moment of silent communication passed through them and they both looked back at Anais. "_Mademoiselle_, as you can see, we are busy rehearsing at this time. Perhaps you could come by later?" Firmin suggested.

"Tell me, Mademoiselle, is your brother in town?" Andre pressed as they led her back through the aisle.

Their sole interest in her lay in her connection to her brother and parents – on her own, she was of little worth, bar a wife entailing a large dowry. And from her lack of beauty, the dowry would be very high indeed.

Erik did not understand the ways of the society he lived on the edge of. A girl with a family with a title was only being spoken to because of her brother…was she not worth knowing otherwise? He studied her as the two managers walked her away, not so subtly dropping hints about a lack of patronage for the opera.

She was petite in build, with clear, tanned skin. She had honey-blonde hair that was pulled back and up in a fashionable style. Her fashion was modern and expensive, her poise practiced to the point of perfection. When she turned to gaze around as if she felt his eyes, he saw a plain, rather squared face with intelligent coffee-brown eyes searching the stage curiously.

But Erik was not the only one staring at the Vicomte's sister. Joseph Buquet, master of the flies, watched the feminine curves of her figure lustily, taking another swig from his bottle of wine. He grinned to himself: perhaps this piece of blue-blooded skirt would serve him nicely.

Erik was once more about to leave when he heard his Christine talking.

"That girl, Anais…she was my friend as a child. We used to spend our summers by the sea together…and Raoul, her brother…well, you could say we were childhood sweethearts." She finished, grinning at Meg Giry, who she was talking to.

"Raoul; As in the _Vicomte_? I've seen him once before! He's so handsome." Meg sighed dreamily.

Christine nodded, "He once rescued a scarf of mine from the sea." She nodded.

"Perhaps the girl – I've forgotten her name – could get you back in touch with him, Christine. You're beautiful enough to tempt a _Vicomte_!"

Christine laughed and Erik glared at the petite figure of Meg Giry…she was not a good influence on _his_ Christine! The careless dancer was growing on his bad side – and so was this 'Raoul', the _Vicomte_, whom he had never met. Throwing his cloak in frustration, he turned and began to walk away, silent as a shadow.

"Christine!"

The girl in question paused as she heard her name being called in the soft, elegant voice. She turned to see Anais walking up to her, a smile across her face.

"Anais! I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me!" Christine gasped, touching her childhood friend on the arm.

"Well, you have changed, Little Lotte! I'd never have thought it: you, a Prima Donna!" Anais replied good-naturedly.

"I'm not a Prima Donna, _mes amie_. I was merely filling in for La Carlotta." Christine replied, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

Anais laughed, "You could never be a Prima Dona with such modesty! Come, Christine, I thought you longed to be a ballerina?"

Christine opened the door of the dressing room she was using – it had been Carlotta's, but she was granted use of it for tonight. "I was a ballerina, Anais. Oh, and I loved it too…but soon it became apparent that my singing was the thing that was going to make the most of my talents." She smiled, "But come, Anais, tell me: how did your audition go?"

Anais' joy-filled face became overcast for a moment. She stood and crossed to the full-length mirror on the furthest wall, gazing at her reflection. "I sang that best I have ever sung in my life time, and yet the managers made it clear I would only be a member of the Opera Populaire's chorus with the patronage of the de Chagny family."

Christine took a sympathetic glance at Anais before walking behind the opaque changing screen. "And are you planning to give them it?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know." Anais replied, brushing a lock of loose hair behind her ear, "I do wish I had gotten in on my own before." She paused, "I would have gotten in if I were more beautiful." She admitted.

The room subtly dropped in temperature and she glanced around for the reason. Finding nothing, she brushed it off. She turned back around and saw Christine emerge from the opaque screen, dressed in regular clothing, "Anais…if you truly want this, go to Raoul and ask him to become a patron. It is giving the managers what they want and giving you what you want." Christine advised.

Anais nodded and stood, "well, Christine. I would love to stay and talk with you about your times in the _Opera Populaire_, but I'm afraid I have things to do. I will see you again soon." She kissed her friend on either cheek once and left the dressing room.

Christine smiled sadly at the door and almost jumped when she heard a voice sing, _Brava, Brava, bravisima!_

"Angel…I am here." She replied unnecessarily.

"You did very well tonight." The voice of her angel complimented, seeming to come from every inch of the room.

"Thank you, my angel." Christine replied, blushing.

The voice seemed to pause, though it was not making any sound. "You must rest, Christine. We will continue your lessons once _Hannibal _is over." It informed her.

Christine was about to say something, but she got the sense that her Angel was already gone…

Erik walked through the hollow walls of the Opera House, taking his usual route past the chapel. The night was cold enough to dwindle the numbers of Parisians on the street, and he was running low on a few essential items. So it was the night-market for him.

But as he drew closer to the chapel, a soft voice caught his attention in its prayer.

"…and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." It finished. With a deep shuddering breath, it added: "and give me the strength to pursue my dreams. Amen."

He recognized the voice: it was the Vicomte's sister…the aspiring chorus girl. He'd overheard her in his Christine's dressing room, while watching her from behind the mirror. He was about to pass by unnoticed when a sob caught his attention. Surprising himself, he found he was talking to her, just like he had to his Christine so long ago…

Anais jumped as she heard a voice, seeming to whisper down from the roof, "Mademoiselle de Chagny, what inspires such sorrow?"

Suspicion swirled in her mind and she found herself whispering, "_L'fantôme de l'opera__…_" she took a deep, shuddering breath, self-consciously wiping away her tears, "What mischief have you planned tonight?"

"None so far. Now, come, _la belle_, why are you crying?"

"Nothing of particular interest to you, _l'fantôme_." She replied warily.

"You want to be a chorus girl."

It was not a question. Anais narrowed her eyes at the space around her, where had _l'fantôme _been listening? "Yes." She replied warily, "But I was not accepted."

"Perhaps I can help? I can be very…persuasive, when the need arrises."

"If I wanted their minds changed I could do it without the help of a mysterious ghost!" she snapped, offence darkening her mood.

"Ahhh, I see. You do not want their minds to be changed…you want to have been accepted for what you are." Again, it was not a question.

"Yes…" Anais ventured cautiously.

"_Well, isn't it obvious? You must get better_!" the voice was whispering now, seeming to come from directly behind her left ear. She jumped back in fright, half-expecting to crash into someone. There was nothing.

Shuddering, she recited the words of her last voice tutor: "A badly made instrument will never sound fine, not for all the tuning in the world."

"_The words of a cruel Prima Donna._"

This time, the voice was on her right. She whirled and saw nothing. Feeling her temper snap, she glared at the space around her, "Christine's precious Angel of Music could not make my voice fine!" she yelled into the air before angrily fleeing from the chapel and – soon – the Opera House.

Unbeknownst to her, Erik grinned to himself, "Now _that _sounded like a challenge."

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**I hope you enjoyed it! I'm not french so any Grammatical Errors are entirely unintentional. Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter Two : Raoul

_Hey all! Sorry about the slow update, I've been busy! I hope I clear up some things in this chapter. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I hope you enjoy this chapter and remember: every time you review something, you make Erik smile!_

Chapter Two - Raoul

Her ego and dreams squandered, Anais, when returning with Raoul, did not repeat her wishes to join the chorus; nor did the managers re-open the topic of conversation. In part, her silence was also advised by Raoul – he and their parents had never approved of her interest in theatre. It was not the proper place for someone of her high stature to be – opera was for watching, not performing in.

Anais was somewhat thankful Raoul had promised not to tell their parents – when she and Raoul left for Paris, they had sworn to disown her if they found out about her doing something so diminishing as theatrics – performing in a chorus was one of their explicit bans. Before, Anais had been ready to defy her parents and do what she longed to do – but her encounters with both Monsieurs Andre and Firmin, as well as the infamous _l'fantôme_, had convinced her she was unsuited for the stage and all its apparent splendour.

She had meekly stood alongside Raoul as he organized all the necessities for patronage to the Opera Populaire, studying the two managers as they ignored her. As her company was at her brother's leisure for the evening, she was forced to sit through another show of _Hannibal_ with him, and confirmed that it was indeed Christine leading the show so triumphantly with her angelic voice. Only to herself did Anais admit her jealousy over her childhood friend.

Gifted with both beauty and the Angel of Music's grace, Christine was living the life Anais now understood she could only dream of: leading an opera in front of a full house of adoring fans.

Raoul apologized as he took his leave, his thoughts on Christine Daae alone, and not the curious silence of sister. He rushed out just as the final note faded and headed towards the backstage and the dressing room of his childhood sweetheart.

Anais felt lost – was she to leave without him? Did he expect her to wait until he returned? What of their plans for supper? She sighed: no doubt _Christine _would be invited to supper and Anais would be forced to spend the night being excluded from conversation.

She stood and crossed to the exit of the box. She tried the handle, stymied to find it locked. She knocked, trying the handle with more force. "Raoul!" she called, wondering whether her brother was already too far gone to hear her.

She sighed and sat on the nearest seat – surely someone would come to clean the box in time. To pass the time, she read the program, matching names to faces; after some time she grew bored of this practice and looked up. She looked at the other boxes and was disconcerted to find them all dark – they had all been cleaned and their lights extinguished.

"Hello?" she called uncertainly into the empty theatre. The lights around her abruptly plunged themselves into darkness, leaving only a small lamp to illuminate the locked door, a leap of fear gripped her chest. She inhaled to calm herself and leant back into her seat, but jumped to her feet in fear when she heard a reply: "Anais. How nice to hear you less upset for once. Did your idiot brother leave you alone in _my _box?"

"_L'fantôme_," Anais breathed. She looked at the door to confirm her rising fear: yes, this was box 5 – the box _l'fantôme de l'opéra_ claimed as his own. "Raoul left, but I think he locked the door by accident," she replied, distressed to find her fear evident in her voice.

"Does the _vicomte_ contain a single thought in his head?" came _l'fantôme_'s harsh, angry voice, booming around the box.

Anais stiffened: why was he insulting her brother? "Has Raoul done something to displease you, _l'fantôme_?" she asked curiously.

"_That's none of your concern, la belle, nor would it interest you to hear it_," this time, his voice was once more whispering behind her left ear. She couldn't repress the shiver it sent down her spine.

"La belle?" she asked, her voice tremulous, "Have you even seen me yet, _monsieur_?"

"_I have. It was not unpleasant, except perhaps, for the tears._"

The thought of him being able to see her gave her another wave of fear and a shiver down her spine. She held back the frightened tears that were threatening to spill, "Please, _l'fantôme_, I just want to leave," she begged.

"_Do you find my presence so displeasing, la belle?" _his voice shifted its whisper to behind her right ear.

Anais shivered again, and this time the tears did spill. "I-I-I don't like the darkness. And that fear grows stronger when a displaced voice whispers lies behind my ear."

"Lies, la belle?" the voice asked curiously, no longer whispering.

"The name you which you call me by so incessantly, _l'fantôme_," she replied.

He laughed, "Perhaps I shall have a new name for you when you return, _mademoiselle de Chagny_."

Before Anais could answer, the door swung open and Madame Giry – the stern-faced ballet mistress – stood in the doorway, holding a lamp and key in each of her hands.

"Thank you, Madame Giry!" she gasped, wiping away her tears quickly with her hands, "I've been locked up here for some time."

Madame Giry stared at her for a moment, before her face softened, "That's quite alright, _mademoiselle_. Come, your friend Christine Daae is asking after you," Anais nodded and followed the ballet mistress out of _l'fantôme_'s box.

Christine looked up as Anais came down the stairs, the last hints of fear still in her brown eyes, "_Mes amie_, what's wrong?" Christine asked.

"When Raoul left, the door locked behind him. You know how much I fear being locked in places in the dark." She looked at her brother sternly, "Raoul certainly does."

He laughed, ignorant of his sister's fear, "Come now, Anais, I did not know the door was locked."

"Nor did you choose to check, _mon fréré_," Anais snapped back. She returned her attentions to Christine, "You performed beautifully again tonight, Christine."

"Thank you, _mes amie_. Your brother has kindly invited me to share supper with you."

"Then I am afraid I must apologize, Christine. Fear has quite exhausted me. You and Raoul go on without me," Anais replied formally.

"Are you sure?"

Anais forced a smile on her face, "I am." She turned her gaze to her brother, "Raoul, I will take the carriage," she informed him. She turned on her heel and began to leave the Opera House without waiting for the reply she doubted would have come anyway.

However, _l'fantôme_'s voice found its way to her ear once more. "_You should be furious at your brother_," he whispered.

"I am."


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